The Unforgiving Sea (The Searight Saga Book 2)

by Rupert Colley

  Removing the hood of her cape, she said, ‘I’ll tell you. I want to. Don’t you hate the Germans for what they did to you?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘No, perhaps you don’t. Respect for your enemy, and all that rubbish. I told you I was a widow. I was married to a German. We lived in Hamburg. My husband was a communist. He was arrested in thirty-four. They put him in a concentration camp. Protective custody, they called it. All my friends shunned me. I had become a pariah overnight. They released him for a while. Oh, Robert, he was a broken man; they’d crushed his spirit. The things he told me – the beatings, the cruelty. And then, a few weeks later, they came for him again. And that was it. I never saw him again; he didn’t survive. They wrote to me. Shot while trying to escape, they told me. I had no one to turn to, no friends, no family, and so I came back to England. I shall never forgive them for what they did.’

  ‘But Joanna wasn’t–’

  ‘I know, I know. I’m sorry.’ Slowly, we started walking. ‘I was angry. It was just, well, the other day it was the anniversary of my husband’s death, and I felt so wretched, so angry. So, I got some paint–’

  ‘From Gregory.’

  She stopped. ‘Oh no, he doesn’t know, does he?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You won’t tell him, will you? Please, don’t tell anyone.’

  ‘If you promise not to do it again.’

  ‘Of course. I borrowed the paint from him and returned it the following day. He didn’t ask why I needed it.’

  ‘You know, she was married to a good friend of mine. He was on the lifeboat with me. He didn’t make it.’

  ‘I didn’t know. I’m sorry; you must hate me.’

  ‘No. I’m not sure I hate anyone really, not even the Germans.’

  ‘How can you fight and kill if you don’t hate?’

  ‘I’m in the merchant navy – our job is not to kill. But you’re right – I think I did hate the Germans, simply because they were the enemy, for what they’ve done to our cities, for allowing themselves to vote for a madman. But I survived the boat. And for that I’m eternally grateful…’

  ‘To whom? The Germans?’

  ‘No, not the Germans. I don’t know.’

  ‘To God?’

  ‘Certainly not God. I look around me, I look at the sky, at the moor, and I see everything differently now. I’m too full of appreciation and gratitude. I have no room for hate. Not any more.’

  ‘You’re a good man, Robert. And I’m a good person too.’ She laughed awkwardly. ‘Really, I am. As soon as I’d done it, I regretted it. The stain of red paint on my fingers, it was like the stain of blood. I felt as if I had her blood on my hands, and I felt ashamed of myself.’

  ‘So, what were you doing just now?’

  ‘I went to see the headstone. I wanted to see how much damage I’d done. That’s why I had the white spirit – I wanted to remove it. Of course, I wouldn’t do it again. I feel bad enough as it is.’

  ‘You weren’t the first.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Before she left, someone painted a swastika on her front door.’

  ‘Now, that wasn’t me.’

  ‘I know. Before your time here. Come on, let’s get you home before anyone sees us. I’m tired.’

  Chapter 36

  I stayed away from Parker’s leaving do at the pub. As did Gregory, who came to see me. Together, we sat in my living room, Angie on my lap, reading the papers, idly talking. ‘Didn’t Parker want you to play the piano tonight?’ I asked.

  ‘He can take a running j-jump as far as I’m concerned. H-he c-came to see me yesterday. He was up-upset because I went to the f-funeral.’

  ‘Funny that, he came to see me too.’

  ‘The man is a b-bully. He c-called me a Nazi.’

  ‘I don’t think it was him who vandalised Joanna’s headstone though.’

  ‘Of course it was. W-who else w-would do such a thing?’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Hey, g-guess what? Rebecca came see me today. She’s going to r-resume her piano lessons.’

  ‘Really? That’s great news.’

  ‘I know she doesn’t l-like me – in t-that way. That’s fine though. Still, it’ll be nice to s-see her every now and then.’

  ‘Of course. And what about the police? Have you been to see them yet?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Gregory – you really should. Did you find anything else missing apart from the candlesticks?’

  He shook his head. We returned to our reading.

  A couple of hours later, after an evening of companionable silence, Gregory declared he was going home. As he put on his coat, he asked whether I was looking forward to returning to sea. Our conversation was cut short by an urgent rap on the door.

  ‘That doesn’t sound good,’ I said, my words lost beneath the sound of Angie’s frenzied barking.

  A second knock was soon followed by a third. ‘All right,’ I shouted. ‘Coming.’

  On opening the door, I found an agitated-looking Abigail in front of me and, lurking behind her, Dan, a large haversack swung round his shoulder. ‘Can I come in?’ she said, barging past me, not waiting for a reply.

  ‘You might as well come in too, Dan.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘H-hello, Abbie,’ said Gregory. ‘Oh, hello,’ he added on seeing Dan.

  ‘Are you OK?’ I asked. ‘Get down, Angie. Is something wrong?’

  ‘It’s dad,’ she said, falling into my armchair. ‘Someone told him that they saw me with Dan.’

  ‘I thought you’d gone,’ I said to Dan.

  ‘I came back.’ He crouched down to pat the dog.

  ‘He went mad. And now he’s at the pub getting drunk. When he gets back, he’s going to kill me.’ She produced a handkerchief from her pocket.

  ‘Surely–’

  ‘No, you don’t know him. When he’s got the drink inside him…’ She coughed.

  ‘He’s capable of anything,’ added Dan.

  ‘He’s right there,’ said Gregory.

  ‘He said if he ever caught up with Dan…’

  ‘But what do you want me to do?’

  ‘Can we stay here – just for the night?’

  ‘Stay here? I’m… I’m not sure.’

  Rising to his feet, Dan said, ‘Just one night, Mr Searight.’

  ‘One?’

  The two of them exchanged worried glances. ‘Dan’s found a place in town. We can move in tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re running away? Why? Your father goes back tomorrow?’

  She blew her nose. ‘It’s not just that. I hate it here. I want to live in town, with Dan, get a job.’ She began coughing again.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked her.

  She waved my concerns away, her hand easing her throat.

  ‘W-what about your mother?’ asked Gregory.

  ‘I don’t want to be like my mum – wasting her life in a dead village like this.’

  ‘No, I meant, won’t s-she miss you?’

  ‘Yeah, but she’d understand.’

  ‘I reckon she’d come with us if she could,’ said Dan. ‘Anything to get away from him.’

  ‘You want to stay the night? I’m really not sure if this is a good idea.’

  ‘Please, Mr Searight,’ said Abigail. ‘I’m…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m frightened of him. I’m frightened of what he’ll do to Dan – and me.’

  ‘Especially when he’s tanked up,’ added Dan.

  ‘He n-need never know,’ said Gregory, turning to me.

  ‘OK, I suppose. One night, yes?’

  ‘We’d be gone first light, Mr Searight.’

  ‘You’d have to camp down here on the sofa, Dan. Abigail, you can have the spare room.’

  They both thanked me, the relief pouring out of them. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea, if you like, Mr Searight.’

  Five minutes later, we all sat in the living room, nursing cups of tea, not s
ure what to say. Gregory, inviting Angie to sit on his lap, had forgotten he was about to leave. Abigail had another coughing fit. She’d been poorly, she told me. I asked her about their new place. They both described it, talking animatedly about their future, their plans. Dan, she told me, had already got a job – working in construction. Demand was high, he said, ‘what with all the bombings.’

  We were still talking about life in Plymouth, when we heard loud shouts from outside.

  ‘Oh my God, it’s Dad. Listen.’

  Sure enough, I could hear him now, calling out Abigail’s name. Peering through the side of the curtain, I could see him outside the house, staggering, waving a bottle in the air. ‘Oh, Lord, he’s heading this way.’

  Abigail rose to her feet, her face streaked with fright. ‘Don’t let him in, please.’

  ‘Don’t worry – I’ll get rid of him.’

  Dan took his place next to Abigail, taking her hand.

  ‘Oi, Searight, you in?’ shouted Parker outside. He pummelled my front door. Angie barked. I had no choice but to see him and try get rid of him as quickly as possible.

  ‘Ha, you are in. Thought as much. Seen Abbie?’

  ‘You’re drunk.’ Angie yelped behind me.

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘And can you blame me? Tomorrow I go back to war. You know what it’s like. While idiots like Dan the Man and G-G-Greggers sit pretty on their fat arses away from it all, I’ll be donning my uniform taking orders from some toff who doesn’t know his arse from his elbow and getting my head blown off. So, yeah, I’ve had a drink or two; there’s no law against it.’

  ‘But perhaps you should–’

  ‘I asked you a question. Have you seen Abbie?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

  ‘I’m afraid not. God, you sound like your old man.’

  ‘Be that–’

  ‘She didn’t come to the pub tonight. You’d have thought she’d want to see her old man off in style, wouldn’t you? But no, she’s got other things on her mind. I thought she might come round see you. I know she’s got a soft spot for you,’ he said adapting a sing-song voice.

  ‘What can I do?’

  He stood there, his eyes narrowing. I could feel his hatred emanating from every pore. He shook his head, as if trying to free himself from such thoughts. ‘Well, listen, if you see her…’

  ‘I’ll tell her to go home.’

  ‘Yeah. Right.’

  He heard it. Immediately, he stood erect. ‘That’s her. That’s her cough; she’s had it all week.’

  ‘No.’

  He grabbed me by my collar, pushing me back against the doorframe. ‘What’s she doing here? That’s what I want to know,’ he growled in my ear.

  I followed him through to the living room, Angie dancing round us.

  Everyone was on their feet. We stood in silence for a few moments – Parker, his daughter, Dan, Gregory and myself in a large circle, Parker his eyes darting from one to the other. I realised then just how intimidated we all were by this man. Abigail shrank a little behind Dan.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ said Parker. ‘Quite the chimps’ tea party, eh? Alright, Greggers? Not fixed your glasses yet?’ He stepped up to Dan, who towered above him. Looking up into his eyes, he said, ‘So, caught you at last; the bastard who tried to rape my daughter.’

  ‘Dad, it wasn’t like that–’

  ‘Shut up; I’m not talking to you,’ he said without taking his eyes off Dan. ‘I’ll deal with you later, you little slut.’

  ‘S-s-steady on, P-Parker.’

  ‘Stay out of it, you freak. You still owe me two quid.’

  ‘The candlesticks weren’t worth much then, eh?’ I asked.

  He glared at me and I knew I’d hit the target. ‘Piss off, Searight. So Dan, Dan, the rapist man, you’re not good enough for the army but you think you’re good enough for my daughter.’

  ‘We love each other, Mr Parker,’ said Dan quickly. ‘We want–’

  ‘“We love each other, Mr Parker,”’ he said in a high-pitched sing-along voice. ‘I don’t give a shit what you want. Now listen here, you sod, I’m going tomorrow. If I hear you’ve even so much as looked at her, I’ll kill you, you get me?’

  ‘Mr Parker–’

  A quick movement of the hand; the crack of bone against bone. Abigail screamed, Angie barked. Dan fell in a heap, yelling in pain, clutching his nose.

  ‘That’s enough, Parker,’ I cried. Looking down at Dan, I saw the blood seeping through his fingers. Parker had head-butted him hard.

  Gregory and Abigail went to Dan. Gently, Gregory pulled his hand away from his bloodied nose while Abigail, now crying, put an arm round Dan’s shoulders. Dan groaned, his eyes circling. Standing up, Gregory tried to speak: ‘You’ve b-broken h-his his…’

  ‘Nose?’ finished Parker. ‘Is that the w-w-word you’re looking f-f-for?’

  ‘Get out,’ I shouted, pointing, unnecessarily, at the door. ‘Get out now.’

  ‘I’m leaving all right, don’t you worry. Abbie, come.’ He put his hand out for her.

  ‘No,’ she said between sobs, holding Dan, stroking his hair.

  ‘What did you say, young miss?’

  ‘S-she s-s-said no.’

  He spun to face Gregory, spitting out his words. ‘One more word from you, you wimp, you’ll get what he got.’ I could see Gregory wilt with fright. He then seemed to find a strength, glared at Parker, and marched out of the house.

  ‘Gregory?’ I called after him as I heard the front door slam. Angie kept up her constant barking.

  ‘Two gone, one to go, eh, Searight?’

  ‘Proud of yourself, are you, Parker? A good example to set your daughter?’

  ‘I don’t have to justify myself to the likes of you. Can’t you shut that bloody dog up? Abbie – now!’ he shouted.

  ‘Look what you’ve done to his nose. We need to get a doctor.’ Propping Dan up against her, she’d given him a handkerchief now coloured stark red as he tried to stem the flow of blood.

  She was right, we needed to call the doctor from the neighbouring village, but I couldn’t leave, not while Parker remained.

  ‘He’ll live,’ said Parker. ‘Now, I’ve said it twice…’ He strode towards her, grabbing her arm.

  ‘I’m not leaving him,’ she screamed as she tried to wrestle her arm free of her father’s grip.

  ‘He got what he deserved. Now, get up. Get up, you stupid cow.’

  Dan, his eyes clenched shut, groaned.

  ‘Get off me, let me go!’

  Conscious of my fear, I tried to intervene. ‘Let her go, Parker. You heard her.’

  ‘Come on, Abbie, you’re my daughter. Leave him, you can do better than that.’

  Still draped with Dan’s head now on her lap, she looked up at him, and quietly said, ‘I hate you.’

  Her words caused Parker to step back. ‘Abbie, no, you don’t mean that. I’m your father, for Christ’s sake, your dad. I… I love you, you know that.’

  ‘You have a funny way of showing it then, don’t you?’ she screamed. ‘Shouting, cursing, hitting. It’s all you do.’

  Clasping his temples, Parker began mumbling. ‘For Christ’s sake…’ He stomped round the room, kicking out at Angie who darted beneath the table. ‘Maybe you’re right. It’s the war, Abbie, it’s messed me up. I’ve seen things, horrible things. It’s affected my brain; I know that. It’s not my fault.’

  ‘So you take it out on us? Me and mum, we were OK while you were away. You come back and it’s been hell. I can’t wait for you to leave.’

  He stared at her, open-mouthed, absorbing her words.

  ‘Parker,’ I said quietly. ‘Go home now. It’s time you left.’

  Ignoring me, he stepped up to her. I knew what was coming from the look of utter loathing in his eyes. I reached out my arm to try and stop him but like a drunken man I was too slow. Raising his right arm, he brought his hand down, slapping her hard against the side of the face. Her head jer
ked back. ‘You bitch!’ he screamed. ‘You bitch, you fucking slut.’

  He raised his arm again but this time I gripped it. ‘That’s enough, Parker.’ From the corner of my eye, I saw Dan trying but failing to get to his feet, while Abigail, holding her face, sobbed.

  I didn’t see it coming. With his free arm, Parker punched me in the stomach. Doubling over, he punched me again, catching me on the cheek. I fell to my knees, preparing myself for another blow but from behind me, I heard the living room door fly open.

  ‘P-Parker!’

  Parker laughed raucously.

  I turned to see Gregory, standing at the door, his legs astride, pointing his father’s hunting gun at Parker while Angie yapped at him, her tail wagging.

  ‘Gregory, nooo!’

  Too late. He pulled the trigger. I clenched shut my eyes as the sound of a primeval, ear-piercing scream filled my ears.

  Chapter 37

  I had failed him. I had failed Gregory as much as I had failed Owen and Joanna. For days at an end, I lay in my bed until late. I didn’t leave the house. I answered the door just once, didn’t eat, didn’t wash or shave. Angie suffered with me, cooped up indoors for hours at an end. Their faces kept coming into view – Gregory’s, Owen’s, Joanna’s… and Alice’s. They were all gone. I had lost them all. I kept reliving the days at sea, on that boat. I had hoped to rebuild my life – instead I felt more at sea than ever.

  The one time I answered the door was when I heard the voice of a policeman shouting through the letterbox. Two of them came in, I recognised them both from their visit following Joanna’s death. Angie almost had a fit on seeing these men in black and in the end I had to lock her in the kitchen.

  ‘Makes a good guard dog, don’t he?’ said the tall one.

  ‘She.’

  ‘Makes a good guard dog, don’t she?’ he repeated with exactly the same intonation.

  Having sat down and removed their helmets, they made me replay the events of Parker’s shooting minute by minute. Parker apparently was well. Gregory must have fired with the intention of missing otherwise, said the first policeman, ‘from that distance, Parker was as good as dead.’ Parker had been in shock for a while, they said, but was now back at home.

  ‘Are you charging him?’